


Petra Calliope and the Issue with Having Fun

by MabelLover



Series: Petra Calliope Black's Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Cousins, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Reincarnation, Self-Insert, Siblings, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Transmigration, of my sister, the day i know how to tag will be the day i plan my fics ahead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:33:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23579215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelLover/pseuds/MabelLover
Summary: A casual fan of Harry Potter who doesn't actually know much about it wakes up one day as Petra Calliope Black and decides to have fun.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange, Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier Black, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Orion Black/Walburga Black
Series: Petra Calliope Black's Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1732840
Comments: 34
Kudos: 425
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. Born a Black

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my sister who will probably never read this. Thank you for choosing the name Petra Calliope Black for your hypothetical HP character that I totally won't write fanfiction about!  
> Also, thank you, readers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petra comes to a new life that is surely a dream and decides to have fun. Because reincarnation doesn't happen.  
> (In another world her sister is laughing her ass off.)

Petra Calliope screamed as if her life depended on it. She knew that if she kept it up for long enough, the House Elf would eventually desist his efforts and call for her parents, the little shits. You see, ever since she was born, Petra had been held by her parents for the smallest amount of time possible, the couple clearly disgusted with having to deal with child-rearing. However, Petra Calliope took the challenge to heart, and did everything she could to make them hold her small, pudgy, useless body. She was in luck that she was still too young to be hit like her older brother, and she would abuse it until they decided it was enough; then, she would begin phase two of her project: annoy them with pointless arguments.

At this point in time, however, she was still very much a baby, and her body was still very much useless and easily tired. Petra Calliope couldn’t keep up with screaming for long, so she did the next best thing in those times: remember how fucked she was.

She hadn’t been a big fan of the Harry Potter franchise, you see? Sure, she watched the movies a fair number of times, but she hadn’t been a hyper-focused ultra-fan like her sister, who inhaled the books and trivia and even fanfiction like it was oxygen and she had almost drowned. She hadn’t even been very knowledgeable about reincarnation and such. She had been reborn and realized it quite easily (a nipple inside your mouth and lack of movement and sight and being called a ‘baby’ did the trick), but when Petra Calliope had seen a small, wrinkled up child talking in the third person and making her diaper float, a scream of terror followed by a furious father coming in and berating her, Petra Calliope Black, for not being silent, the realization of ‘Harry Potter, Harry Potter’ filled her up.

Well, she had (mostly) gotten over it. Petra wasn’t still quite sure it was real, maybe it was just a big, elaborate lucid dream, and she suddenly wished she’d payed more attention to her sister’s ramblings, but it was overall just the best chance to mess with people. She could do a lot with her new life, decide what path she wanted to take, scorn her family name and join the Order of the Phoenix. It’d be awesome.

It was problematic, however, that the most she could do at this point was scream her lungs out and sit up. She wanted out! The months she’d spent annoying her new parents and terrorizing the Elf were fun, but it was starting to get a little stale. Her older brother (she really ought to learn the name of the kid) came often to her room to read some really strange stories, not that they weren’t entertaining, and her other older brother, the Sirius that was talked about in the screaming matches between her parents, was away at Hogwarts, and had been gone apparently just the day before she’d been born. He hadn’t returned for the Christmas Holidays, nor for the Easter Break, and Petra Calliope was pretty sure that her new mother would chew him out for it, and it was just the thing she wished to see, something other than her screaming at her brother or father or Petra. A new victim would be fun.

Petra didn’t have to wait for very long, as the day of picking Sirius from Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, as well as apparently two of her cousins, had finally come. The House Elf dressed her in a small, puffy dark green dress with a bow in the back and brushed her pale baby hair in what was ‘a proper hairstyle’, which means, apparently, a bow on the back and pretty curls, none of the usual messy waves. Petra Calliope kept trying to grab the curls to absolute destroy them, much to the displeasure of her mother, who had picked her up against all odds, and kept on batting her hand away from her hair. The frown on her face every time Petra Calliope tried was worth trying to maneuver the stupid puffy sleeves, and the sigh of ‘Not another one’ brought a giggle to her chest that she only just managed to contain. As the people in the drawing room, who’d been introduced as Aunt Druella, Uncle Cygnus and Cousin Bellatrix, awful names, really, went one by one into the fireplace to travel by Floo Powder, soon followed by the brother and the father, Petra wished she could speak just to mess up the trip, but it seemed that her best efforts during those boring hours hadn’t quite paid off yet. When her mother finally stepped in and the fire began, Petra Calliope stiffened by reflex and closed her eyes, and when she opened them she found her dress covered in soot and a shiny, smoke-filled train station filled with people.

There were kids everywhere, running around, talking loudly and eating candy, calling out to the parents that formed small groups around the pillars and near the opened compartments. The wizards and witches dressed in their robes and with their top hats were walking and levitating the trunks and talking with other adults, some adults in Muggle clothes were looking around, absorbing as much as they could. The Blacks waited until everyone had cleaned up with a spell and proceeded to make their way outside of the Floo area and into the Platform itself. It seemed that every person opened a path for them, whispering to their partner. Occasionally, a well-dressed wizard or witch went to greet father or mother or Uncle Cygnus or Aunt Druella, always going by their last names, Selwyn or Rowle or Rosier or Yaxley, and some looked calculatingly at Petra’s brother or at Petra herself before talking about blood purity and Old Houses.

It went this way until a boy with dark hair and devious eyes came over to the Blacks. He was still dressed in his Hogwarts robes, a scarlet and golden tie a sharp contrast against the Blacks’ black and green clothing. Two older girls followed just behind him, them dressed in the style o clothing Petra Calliope had gotten used to seeing in her mother, black dresses in some sort of Victorian style, but kept their hair down instead.

These were, apparently, Sirius, Andromeda and Narcissa, going by her mother’s reaction; Sirius received a stare of disapproval.

“Sirius Orion, what are you wearing?! I had explicitly written that you were to dress as according to your station.”

He, Sirius, looked up to her, his, well, their mother, with the neutral, well-practiced face of someone who frequently has to get out of trouble. “Really, Mother?” he said, “Because I believe that you also wrote that I was a ‘disgrace of an heir’ and a pathetic ‘Gryffindor bloodtraitor’. I was merely dressing according to ‘my station’.”

Their mother looked on the verge of fury, but Aunt Druella intervened just before a disaster could occur, asking her daughters how the year had been while Bellatrix, seemingly bored out of her wits, asked to hold Petra and proceeded to watch as she promptly destroyed her hairstyle. As Andromeda talked about the Transfiguration classes and Narcissa discussed the latest Slytherin politics, Aunt Druella calmly lead the family back to the Floo area while Uncle Cygnus and Father separated Mother from Sirius and Regulus.

Once back in the Black House’s drawing room, however, there was no stopping the fury of that woman, and Petra Calliope was quickly ushered away by her cousins to the nursery, much to her disappointment. She tried kicking and screaming and it seemed that Narcissa, the one holding her at the time, didn’t quite know what to do with a bawling baby, dropping her in fear, but Andromeda quickly caught Petra and was joined by Bellatrix in wrestling her into the crib. She gave them a foul expression of displeasure, and they all laughed.

“She looks just like Aunt Walburga!” said Andromeda, holding her hand in front of her mouth.

“Well, who else would she look like? I doubt that Uncle Orion has a very hands-on approach to parenting,” Narcissa pointed out while trying not to snort.

“Still,” Bellatrix spoke up, “if she continues to be this wild little thing, I’m sure that she’ll be a great warrior. She – all of us in this room – we could all serve the Dark Lord together.”

Silence.

Andromeda sighed as if they’d had this conversation a million times. “Bella, we’ve talked about this. Petra, Cissy and I will join only if we wish to.”

“But we must prove our loyalty to the cause, Andy! We must prove-”

“We don’t have to prove anything, Bella,” Cissy intervened. “We are Blacks, and that is more than enough.”

They then moved out of the room, leaving a quiet, dumbstruck Petra Calliope in her crib, wondering about what the hell she’d just had gotten into.


	2. Ramifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petra learns some things and seriously hopes she didn't get into shit.

It had taken about eleven months for Petra Calliope to learn her brother’s name. It was apparently Regulus, and she felt ashamed because he was not only a fairly important character, being her brother and all that, but she’d also lived with him and been told stories by him during those eleven months.

On another note, she’d finally managed to say her first word, which had been ‘Mother’, to appease the woman who’d been more and more frighteningly angry as Sirius kept talking back and pranking her. He’d been at the end of several shouting matches and even her wand at one point, and Petra decided to stop annoying her parents in fear of the woman’s magical prowess. It didn’t mean, however, that she stopped trying to have fun with her new life.

As the Summer progressed, her cousins visited the Black House quite frequently. Petra Calliope crawled around the drawing room’s carpet, pulling on their dresses to be sat on their laps and be regaled with mad stories of midnight duels and shady politics and the latest gossip of engagements and affairs and she just ate it all up. The Wizarding World was just so much more interesting than the Muggle one, even if similar in base. It seemed that for every mundane thing, from gardening to politics to just life in general, wizards and witches came up with dozens of magical novelties. Bella was going to get married to a man called ‘Rod’, whom Andy and Cissy seemed to disapprove of, but that belonged to a good House and supported her decision of serving the Dark Lord.

And that was the extent of discussing Voldemort in front of Petra Calliope when the sisters were together, but when the others left, Bella told stories of glorious battles and right morality and great heroes; all bullshit, of course, but entertaining bullshit, and Petra wasn’t complaining. The look of pure lust and awe in Bella’s face when she discussed the Dark Lord in particular was a bit disturbing, in the way that Mother’s look of disdain towards Sirius was disturbing, an expression that didn’t belong in someone so pretty. And it was true, that the Blacks were pretty. Mad, but pretty.

Regulus used the time he had left before he went to Hogwarts to hang out around Petra as much as he could. He spent a lot of quiet time around her, reading or working around a problem his tutor gave him, and liked to read for her. Out of all of her family members, he was the one Petra Calliope liked the most, and she made sure to include ‘Reg’ in her rapidly-growing vocabulary. He’d always talk about his plans for once he joined Slytherin and how he’d redeem the family after Sirius’ mistake, and while Petra would like to loudly scream that Gryffindor was the best, she found space in her black, charred heart (oh, the drama!) to not break his illusion and be the best kid sister one would want, so she entertained him.

Speaking of siblings, Sirius had come into the nursery one time only to leave with a bitten finger and a very angry Petra whose nap time had been interrupted; one does not simply wake Petra Calliope, after all. He tried to use the pretext of playing with her to escape the extra lessons assigned by Mother, but it hadn’t worked, so Petra found herself again in her room mad with herself for having screamed so loudly. Had she stayed quiet, she might have seen other parts of the House, and not just the nursery and the drawing room.

It seemed that Sirius stayed clear of her since that incident, half scared of her, half more interested in writing to his Potter buddy and the his halfblood friends. He had to smuggle the letters to the last ones past Kreacher, the House Elf, but correspondence with Potter had been allowed because, despite being a bloodtraitor, his mother was Dorea Black, who’d never been officially disowned. Mother still disapproved of the contact, but a strongly-worded Howler from Aunt Dorea to Walburga Black (what a horrendous name, Petra thought; who the fuck named her?) made clear that, while she had indeed married into another family, Dorea could and would use her status as a Black elder to, putting it nicely, ‘make bad things happen’. Again, they’re all mad.

Petra Calliope had then spent the Summer in-between preparations for a new Hogwarts year and a wedding, spending as much time with Regulus and her cousins and being avoided by her parents, as usual, and Sirius. All in all, it was interesting, and she dreaded the day the Hogwarts Express would take off and she’d be forced to spend her days by herself (and no, Kreacher didn’t count). As such, she tried to reap as much enjoyment as she could.

* * *

Of course it all went to shit because of her ignorance.

Did you know that Bellatrix Lestrange was born Bellatrix Black? Because Petra Calliope didn’t.

She only realized something very important right in the middle of the wedding vows, when Bellatrix Druella Black took Rodolphus Ares Lestrange as her husband. Only then did she remember that Sirius Black was killed by his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange and that she is Sirius’ sister and that Bellatrix Lestrange should then be her cousin and that she has a cousin named Bellatrix.

In her defense, however, she never heard of anyone called Rodolphus Lestrange in the movies and assumed that Bellatrix had been born a, well, Lestrange.

It shouldn’t have been a problem, however. But it was, because Bellatrix fucking Lestrange had taken an interest in Petra Calliope Black and very obviously wanted her to join her little murder club. And Petra didn’t have the time nor the patience for that in the middle of her plans of fucking shit up, being a Gryffindor and having fun. And it was _not_ fun to have a mental breakdown in the middle of a wizarding reception party.

Not that anyone was paying much attention to the baby having her mind obliterated, being too busy playing their little political games. Sirius was parading around with a stupid smirk on his face and being bootlicked by other Heirs, Father and Mother were talking to some couples, Aunt Druella was ‘giving advice’ to Bella while being pointedly ignored by Uncle Cygnus, who watched Narcissa dance with Lucius Malfoy and kept an eye on Antonin Dolohov, who was trying to woo Andy. Petra just stayed in the high chair she’d been dumped in at the first opportunity, trying to work out what to do. Regulus, who’d been doing well at being a wallflower, approached her and just sat by her side, patting her head affectionally. Petra smiled at the gesture; at this point, it was very much welcome.

Hopefully, there was still time to fix this. Bella would become busy with her new ‘job’ over the next few months, and Petra could work on becoming as unappealing as possible. Hopefully.


	3. Always Pure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toujours Pur. Petra wonders if she should have thought more about what it meant.  
> Also, minions are something to be expected?

This clearly meant something bad, being forced into a tight dress and having her hair brushed and styled. She wasn’t going to the Platform, as Sirius and Regulus had already left, and she wasn’t going back for a wedding or such, because Bella, Andy and Cissy would have talked about it. But Mother had still ordered a bath and formal clothing and Kreacher had still hurried Petra to be on time, and it meant out, but didn’t say where.

Where, it turned out, was Greengrass Manor, more specifically a tea party. A fucking tea party. And Mother didn’t even let her stay by the ladies’ table where all of the juicy gossip and politics comes from, and instead dumped her with some snotty toddlers. The kids are either really cute and bossy or ugly as hell and pretty daft too, just doing what the others tell them to. Petra didn’t really expect the bully-minion thing to be real, having been homeschooled ever since ever; and the lack of contact with literally anyone else other than her family left her severely unprepared to whatever the hell she was supposed to do.

A sharp look from Mother and a nod in the direction of two dim-witted girls who insisted on trying to eat an orange without peeling it made Petra realize what she was here for. She was supposed to get her own minions. And it was wonderful! Someone to order around and helping fuck everything up, she really wanted to thank Mother right now; she had, however, far more important things to do at this moment. The girls, two identical horse-faced twins with black eyes and corn-yellow hair pulled back into identical pigtails looked up when she toddled up to them and spoke, trying her best to speak clearly and not sound like a jumbled mess.

“I’m Petra Calliope. You come with me!”

And they looked at each other for a moment before shrugging and getting up to follow Petra Calliope to an empty miniature table, waiting until she sat in the chair before exchanging looks again and sitting down as well. The one on the right evaluated Petra before deciding to speak.

“I’m Nova. This is Norma. You Black?”

Petra blinked. She wasn’t black, and wasn’t sure where Nova got the ide- oh, she was asking about her family, of course! “I’m Petra Black” she said, “And you?”

“Rowle” this time it was Norma who spoke. After the exchange, the twins fell silent, seemingly awaiting orders from Preta.

A smirk came upon her face.

“Want to play?”

* * *

Petra’s minions ended up helping her slip some ice inside one of the kid’s shirt. Nova (or was it Norma?; she’ll have to find a way to distinguish them) stole it from the buffet table while pretending to pick up a cupcake, and the other one (Norma?) distracted the kid’s group. Petra just passed by, holding an ice cube with some tongs and quickly grabbed the back of the kid’s shirt and deposited the cube. With the tongs hidden in the frills of her dress, she ran as far as she could just before the screaming began.

The mother of the kid came running to find a wet shirt and no ice cube. Call Petra what you want, but she isn’t stupid; she specifically told Nova to give her the smallest cube she could find. The woman couldn’t say anything about being pranked, of course, and she had to leave the party with son in tow. The other ladies started giggling and whispering to each other as soon as the door closed. Mother stared approvingly at Petra for a second before turning to Madam Greengrass. It was strange, considering that she hated Sirius’ pranks.

Norma and Nova just kept following Petra Calliope around, not pranking anyone but just genuinely playing around. She’d forgotten what playing felt like; she’d been with older people for so long, she just never had the chance to make-believe. So she played the brave witch using unorthodox methods to slay the filthy muggles, and the Rowles just played along. For a while, they got to be just children.

* * *

She found later that the kid that she’d pranked was Eric Fawley and that he was rumored to be a halfblood and not a pureblood. His mother, who was not the woman at the tea party, was discovered to have had an affair with a muggleborn and ‘disappeared’. His aunt had reluctantly accepted to take care of him, as she couldn’t leave him; Eric was officially a pureblood and the wizarding community severely condemned abandonment.

It was Mother who told her that, sitting her daughter on a chair of the drawing room and messing with the necklace around her neck. She then pointed out to the tapestry covering the walls of the room.

“Petra, this is our History, the History of the Blacks. We are proud of our heritage, and princes in the Wizarding World; we must maintain our status.”

Petra nodded. It was bullshit, of course. She would never support a family that based itself in oppression and racism, but Mother would have her head if she said otherwise.

“It began many generations ago,” Mother continued, “when Altair the Black moved to the Isles and founded his clan. His daughter, Altaira, married a wizard from Scotland and continued the line.”

Walburga lowered herself to her daughter’s level, looking straight into her eyes. The woman smiled madly, obsession pouring over to her expression. She was dangerous.

“ _Toujours Pur_. Always pure. You understand, don’t you, Petra Calliope?”

Petra nodded again.

* * *

Regulus came for the Christmas Holidays. Sirius did not, and while Mother was furious, Petra found that she didn’t really care. She had Reg, and that was enough.

Petra Calliope had finally been allowed to roam the house, as she was deemed proficient enough at walking. She went up and down the stairs, into rooms she was allowed into and others she wasn’t, she explored the library and the dusty portraits that lined up the corridor walls. She walked in the floors that Kreacher was cleaning, laughing when he groaned in annoyance because of her dirty boots; every day that she wasn’t annoying Kreacher, she begged him for an extra biscuit and gave him a happy, cute smile that melted his wrinkled heart. She stole the quill from Father’s office and left it on the drawing room or knocked a bottle of Mother’s perfume to the ground and narrowly escaped punishment by the virtue of Mother having a letter to send or Father having some legislation to pass and they ended up forgetting about Petra’s misdeeds.

Regulus had homework to complete for his classes, but let his baby sister throw herself into his bed and help him hang up a Slytherin scarf on his wall. Petra just kept asking him about Hogwarts, what the classes were like, everything.

“Is it true that the Gamekeeper is enormous? Like, this tall?” And she just put her hand as far up as she could.

Reg laughed, and stopped writing his Charms essay to turn around.

“Yes, some say he’s even _half-giant_! Imagine that, Petra!”

And Petra laughed, because the notion was ridiculous. How could a human and a giant, well, do it? And she moved on to the next question, about the armor stands, and time passed.

When Andy and Cissy finally came to stay at the House for a couple of days, along with Aunt Druella and Uncle Cygnus, they managed to convince Mother that Petra Calliope needed to see snow and took her out to the nearby park. It was a Muggle park, but good enough to see snow, she supposed. She’d lived in a place that never snowed; in fact, she’d only ever seen pictures of snow. But this white blanket was pretty and fluffy and very, very cold. Andy had to tear Petra away from it, and Cissy had to give her scarf to her cousin before she caught a cold, and they dragged her back to the Black House to rot inside for some more months, kicking and screaming, of course, because Petra Calliope wouldn’t settle for anything less.

On Christmas Eve, Mother dismissed Petra from her intonation classes sooner than usual and let her run around making noise more than usual. It was fine by her, and she hoped that the dinner wouldn’t be very boring. And it wasn’t, because the turkey was floating and made sparks when cut, and the cake was made of chocolate, something she hadn’t even _seen_ since she’d waken up to this madness, much less tasted. With an Eve this great, she could only expect an actual Christmas Day to be absolutely grandiose.

Of course, it was just her luck when the next day she was dragged to the Malfoy Manor for a Christmas Ball.

Luckily, she found that Nova and Norma had also been invited, and that Norma had gotten an uneven haircut by her brother’s accidental magic. It looked ridiculous, and was quite ironic considering her name, but it was, at least, a way of finally distinguishing the twins. They couldn’t get up to trouble in this stuffy event, but Petra could be followed by her tridimensional shadows everywhere and steal Christmas Pudding and escape to the gardens to pull a cracker that gave her a silly hat and the twins a chess set (maybe it’ll do them good, she thought).

Best of all, staying glued to the Rowle twins gave her an excuse to avoid Bella, who was attending with her husband. Petra Calliope missed her mad and madly entertaining stories, but it was a small price to pay for a free soul. Nova and Norma did not, however, give her an excuse to ignore Mother’s call to her side, so after saying goodbye to her minions, Petra obediently (warily) made her way to where she was wanted.

Mother was standing beside a lady wearing a red dress robe, showing no skin but being just as sensual as one of those form-fitting dresses. She was hanging on the edge of the modesty in this world, just barely. Her manicured hands were placed on a boy’s shoulders. He was about five, and seemed just as happy to be there as Sirius seemed at the Black House; he had dark brown hair and blue eyes, and his face was full of moles, his nose a bit bigger than usual, but he’d probably grow into it. He stared blankly at Petra.

“Petra,” Mother began, “these are Freya Carrow and her son Arctus.”

Placing her right hand over her heart and clumsily bowing, Petra Calliope greeted them. “Merry meet.”

“Merry meet.” They repeated her motions. Madam Carrow smiled at Petra and craned her head up to look at Mother.

“Oh, Walburga, she’s just lovely! She’ll make a wonderful bride!”

What?

Appatently, she’d said it out loud, because Madam Carrow turned to her and kindly clarified the subject. “You see, Petra dear, you and my Arctus will marry each other!”

Petra Calliope stared at her fiancé who stared back at her.

What the fuck.


	4. The In-Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for magic, pranks and fiancés.

“Will you really be back for Easter?”

Reg placed his shirts inside his trunk and moved over to his desk to get some books. “Of course I will. Why wouldn’t I, Petra?”

Petra Calliope looked at the floor. “I’ll miss you, so I don’t want you to go!”

“You mean you’ll be bored?” Regulus chuckled, brushing his hair back with his hand. He was starting to need a haircut.

Legs dangling off the edge of her brother’s bed, Petra looked up smiling. “Sure I will. You know I never have anything to do.”

“I feel honored that you consider me a way to fight off your boredom.”

“What else would you be good for, brother dearest?”

“I don’t know. Maybe never come home to actually be with his siblings.”

Petra was born after Sirius went to Hogwarts. She didn’t know what his and Regulus’s relationship was like, but it was surely destroyed after he was sorted into Gryffindor. That, and he preferred his group to his brother’s company. Would the same happen when Petra got herself in Gryffindor as well?

They remained in an uncomfortable silence, avoiding each other’s eyes, until Reg spoke up.

“I could send letters. You haven’t learned how to read yet, but I’m sure Kreacher could read them for you.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yes! Maybe I could even send you photographs of the Common Room or the Great Hall, if you want. What do you think, Petra?”

She jumped out of the bed and tackled him into a hug.

“Yes, yes, a million time yes!”

Regulus laughed and pat her head. “What about your new fiancé? Arctus Carrow?”

Petra Calliope wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know him. We were just introduced. Why are you asking?”

“So I can beat him up if he hurts you.”

“I can do it myself once I get a wand. Speaking of which…”

“No, Petra, I’m not lending you my wand.”

“Oh, please, just for a little while!”

“No” he closed his trunk.

“Please?”

“No” he went to the corridor and Petra followed him out.

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“No, Petra, for the last time, I will not lend you-”

“Lend Petra what, exactly?”

Bella was standing in the corridor, arms crossed. Staring curiously at the pair in front of her, she raised and eyebrow, as if expecting an answer. Petra gulped and, before she could stop him, Regulus spoke.

“Petra’s been bugging me about my wand for a while. She wants to use it.”

Bella tilted her head. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if she wants a taste of magic, why not let her?”

“Bella, I’m not letting Petra-”

“You aren’t; I am. Besides, it’ll be my wand, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Petra’s only one-”

“She seems pretty capable to me. If you’re worried about magical ability, didn’t she manifest when she was, what, two days old?”

“I… What are you even doing here? Weren’t you at Lestrange Manor?”

“Had something to tell Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion.”

Bella turned to Petra. “Come on then. I don’t have all day.”

Seeing no other options, with Regulus defeated in the argument, Petra Calliope followed Bella to the library. It was a large room that was two floors tall. The bookcases varied largely from each other, as they had been brought by members of the family during various generations. Kreacher worked incessantly to keep the dust off the tomes and parchments stored in the shelves. It was said in the pureblood circles that any book worth reading could be found in the Black Library, and it was true. History, Politics, Charms, and especially the Dark Arts, the Blacks had been archiving each and every worthy contribution to knowledge even before the creation of the printing press. Mother had brought Petra to the library to learn from the _Pure-Blood Directory_ , even though she hadn’t yet been taught her letters.

Bellatrix sat on a stiff chair near the fireplace, motioning for Petra to stand in front of her. Reaching to her wand-holster, she brought out a curved, dark wand.

“I’m going to lend it to you for a little while. You’ll try Lumos. It’s a simple spell, should be no trouble for you.”

She then placed it on Petra’s hand and put her bigger hand on top of her cousin’s. Bella guided Petra through a simple swish. “ _Lumos_.”

The end of the wand lighted up. It was fairly warm, and Petra Calliope wondered what would happen if she jabbed it into some parchment.

Bellatrix let go of Petra’s hand, and the light extinguished. “Now you try.”

Breathing in carefully, Petra swished. “ _Lumos_!”

The wand lighted up again, but this time she felt excitement running through her veins. She’d just used her magic!

“Congratulations!” Bella smiled kindly. “I’m sure you’ll be a great witch.”

There was a knock on the door, and Mother’s voice could be heard. “Bellatrix, Orion is in the drawing room. Come with me.”

“Yes, Aunt Walburga!” She winked at Petra and retrieved her wand, putting it away in her holster. “We’ll see each other again, cousin. Goodbye for now.”

“Goodbye.” Good riddance to Bellatrix, hopefully.

* * *

Petra spent her days in boredom as usual, being ignored by Mother and Father and having only Reg’s letters to ease the stillness in her life. It got to the point that she even began to enjoy the stiffy lessons Mother had been giving her about etiquette and such. She did something different every time, at the very least.

The lack of activity seriously messed with her, and she’d tried four different times to get out of the House, three to steal Father’s wand (she couldn’t believe she’d gotten only a slap on the wrist for that), and five to break into Sirius’ room and paint his stupid walls Slytherin green. At this point, she decided to swallow her pride.

“Kreacher!”

The Elf appeared with a pop. “Yes, Young Mistress?”

“Can you help me get into Sirius’ room? I think it needs a little redecorating.”

Kreacher smiled that nasty smile of his and snapped his fingers, making the door open. Petra walked in and looked around. The wall behind the bed was covered in photos and Gryffindor memorabilia. Petra could see four boys waving in one, and in another a sickly-looking kid laughing. Near the bedside table, Sirius had glued a photograph of a red-haired girl berating a dark-haired boy, Potter, as she recognized from the paintings she’d been shown as part of her ‘education’. The other walls of the room hadn’t been yet filled with garbage, and Petra rushed to Kreacher to ask him for green paint. His eyes glinting in maliciousness, he disappeared only to return with a bucket of paint and large brushes.

* * *

Arctus wasn’t all that bad, she decided. A bit introverted, but she could deal with him.

Sitting in the miniature table that Madam Carrow had supplied to the two of them, Petra Calliope made a job of stuffing her mouth with biscuits when Mother wasn’t looking and actually talking to the kid she was engaged to as soon as the woman turned towards her.

“So,” she said, in between biscuits, “how old are you, exactly?”

“Five and a half.” He then furrowed his eyebrows. “Aren’t you one?”

“And a half.”

“You don’t talk like a kid your age.”

Did she? Now that Petra thought of it, she’d never really thought about that.

“Mother taught me.”

“That makes sense, I suppose.”

Madam Carrow approached the table with one of her large smiles. Petra couldn’t help but smile back.

“Are you having fun? Arctus, dear, why don’t you show Petra around?”

The boy moved away from his mother to grasp Petra’s hand. She noticed that his knuckles were white from how strongly he was grasping it.

“Yes, mother.”

He dragged her outside of the French pavilion and into the Carrow Cottage. It was less of a cottage and more of a mansion, to be honest. The Carrows lived by the sea, and it was windy all year. The leaves of the trees swayed and Petra was thankful for once that she’d been forced into one of those ridiculous braids that Mother had been trying to put her hair in. Arctus just pulled her along, ignoring her protests when she couldn’t keep up.

“Just walk faster!”

“It’s not my fault that you have such freakishly large legs!”

“Or maybe you’re just small.”

Alright, forget everything. Arctus Carrow is an asshole.

He led her out of the house and into the hedge maze and made her sit in a bench.

“There. Now we’re far enough that Mother can’t see us. You won’t have to walk anymore.”

Petra looked up to him in confusion. “I thought you had to show me around?”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Why?”

“None of your business.”

Petra looked up to him in anger. “Why not?! I’m your fiancée!”

“Well, I don’t want to marry a spoiled princess like you! Besides, girls are disgusting!”

She’d forgotten he was five. No matter how well he spoke, he still was five. A child.

“Alright.”

“What?”

“You don’t have to marry me. But we can still be friends.”

“But girls-”

“You won’t have to touch me. Then you won’t be disgusting too, right?”

He seemed to consider her words. “Fine.”

“Friends?” Petra Calliope lighted up.

“Friends,” replied Arctus Carrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading so far!  
> Some feedback would be great! I'm always open to learning new things.


	5. Interlude I: An Heir, a Spare, and a Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of the Black children.

It was no secret in the Black Family that Orion and Walburga had trouble conceiving their children. It could be attributed to their close familiar relationship; second cousins was cutting it close, even for Pureblood standards. Their marriage had been nothing short of a shipwreck, with constant arguments and fights that were doubled when Walburga whether didn’t get pregnant or miscarried once more. It took her four years to finally give birth, to a stillborn girl that they named Lucretia and buried in the Black Family plot. It took her four more years for a child to finally survive past the birth, and so Sirius Orion Black was the first little face that graced the Tapestry just below his parents, something that Walburga did herself with vengeance for Lucretia, Arcturus and Capella, the children born dead.

Regulus Arcturus had been a surprise, a healthy child born to a weakened mother. The Family had expected another miscarriage or stillborn, but he’d persevered until the end, and while his cries did not compare to his elder brother’s, Regulus still had a fighting heart, and Orion named him after the lion he was (he told the family he’d named him after his uncle, they did not need to know the truth).

And after the duty of the heir and the spare had been fulfilled, Orion and Walburga began to drift apart sexually. They’d indulge on it every once in a while, predominantly after a big argument that left them panting and wanting, but not often. The couple began to make separate lives, only being together when required by the society and Family.

Walburga’s third pregnancy had been wholly unexpected. If Regulus’s safe birth had been surprising, then the new child had been appalling. It had been eleven, nearly twelve years since Sirius’ birth, and Walburga was nearing her fourties, a strange age to have children by pureblood standards. The Family had forced her to rest; her problems with carrying children to term would grow with her age. She hadn’t been happy about that, and constant complaints became the norm in Grimmauld Place. The boys were all but walking on glass, trying everything they could to avoid setting their mother off.

The child, a girl, was born healthy the day after Sirius went to Hogwarts, and the screams during the birth were not only curses towards Orion, but also rage against Sirius becoming a Gryffindor. The child screamed along with her mother, and did not calm down for hours. She was like an unmovable rock, and Walburga, annoyed with having had to give birth for a third time, named her for the pun. Orion tried to object in the manner that he could, and gave her Calliope as a middle name, for the age he could see in the newborn’s eyes and the determination he wanted a Black daughter to have.

Two days after she was born, Petra Calliope began screaming once more and her magic broke the windows in her nursery.


	6. The Portrait of a Bloodtraitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petra meets what remains of Iola Hitchens née Black. For some reason, she is reminded of someone else...

Petra felt that she was beginning to become mad. Mother hadn’t taken her for another outing since the playdate with Arctus, and she had vehemently forbidden Nova and Norma’s visits. She’d been more bitchy than usual, probably because of something Sirius had done, and Petra couldn’t help but think that the woman was trying to take it out on her. It meant, of course, that Petra needed to give a fuck about it, which she didn’t, and Walburga soon moved on to other targets, mostly the House Elves.

As much as Petra didn’t really care, the lack of activity and interaction she’d been getting was minimal. It basically boiled down to the etiquette lessons with Mother and the weekly letters that Reg sent. She was bored, bored, bored. She was so bored that not even a good prank could cheer her up.

The general lack of attention that the adults in the House payed to her meant that she had a lot of time to wander around Grimmauld Place. Every day, Petra Calliope found something new: a hidden alcove in the library, a stash of Dark objects, a new painting of a arrogant-looking Black. The paintings themselves were a bit of fun, since they could talk and all that, but Petra soon got bored after Phineas Nigellus Black spout some more racist nonsense about muggleborns. All of those past Blacks were essentially gits, and she was enough of one herself.

Then one day, in a corner of the library, Petra noticed some marks on the floor, like something heavy had been dragged on it. It made a quarter of a circumference, and ended up on a wall. She put her hands up against it, feeling the wallpaper, and her digits caught on a small gap; she applied a bit of strength and the wall separated, forming a hidden door. She opened it, and found a small, thin room, covered in dust. Inside, on the floor, were many ruined portraits, cut in ribbons, the names in the metal plaques obscured. Petra coughed as she stepped in, and walked up to the only frame hung up on the wall. It was covered in a white sheet, which she pulled back. The canvas hadn’t been ruined, like the others. Instead, the girl looked up to a brown-haired, blue-eyed woman. The name plaque said _Iola_.

The woman snapped out of the trance she seemed to be in, and locked eyes with Petra.

“Who are you?” she asked. “I’ve never seen _you_ before.”

“Petra Calliope,” the woman hummed in appreciation. “I am Orion and Walburga’s daughter.”

“Ah, Phineas’ descendant, then. I don’t think you know about me, then.”

Petra shook her head. The woman, Iola, smiled sadly. “I was disowned a long time ago for marrying a Muggle. I think the only thing that remains of my existence is a scorched mark in the Tapestry.”

“A Muggle?”

“Yes, Bob Hitchens. We lived happily together, with our son. But my family decided that revenge was in order and bound a part of my spirit to this portrait. Now I have to remain here even after my death.”

Petra pointed to the other ruined portraits. “Are these of bloodtraitors too?”

“Yes,” Iola Hitchens nodded. “The Family destroyed them for one reason or the other.”

“What did they do?” she asked. Mother had taught her the stories of the great members of the Black Family, but the disowned children had never been talked of.

“Phineas II supported muggleborns, Cedrella married a Weasley, Marius was a Squib. Farther back there are less disownments, but then the Blacks coexisted and intermarried with Muggles and muggleborns.”

Petra blinked in surprise. Iola laughed.

“Yes, girl, before our worlds separated, we Blacks were as much Muggles as Wizards. We only don’t say so to keep our status.”

* * *

Petra kept coming back to Iola Hitchen’s portrait. She was the only one in Grimmauld Place with a moral compass somewhat similar to her own, and she could hear something other than the mindless drivel that Mother fed her.

“I had siblings too,” Iola said one day. “Didn’t mean anything when I ran off with Bob. Phineas disowned me, and Elladora pretended I didn’t exist.”

“What about Sirius?”

“He came to me, begging me to leave Bob. I told him I couldn’t do that. He attacked, and I killed him while defending myself.”

* * *

Uncle Alphard came to Grimmauld Place for the first time in three years and Petra took a liking to him immediately. He was fun and subversive, and annoying his sister, Walburga, was his favorite activity, something that Petra Calliope could definitely relate to. They had a hell of a good time, sliding down the bannisters, disrupting the House Elves, drawing moustaches on the magical moving pictures in the drawing room. Between him and Iola, Petra no longer felt bored.

She learned while overhearing a conversation that he’d arrived to help prepare Andromeda’s wedding to Antonin Dolohov. Petra felt a bit sorry for Andy, for having to marry straight out of Hogwarts, but mostly for herself, because it meant that her cousin would live in the Dolohov Estate and not be able to visit as much as before in the Summer. Still, the idea of something new to prepare for gave life to the House of Black and they began to wrap themselves in activities and trips and decisions about this and that.

Reg kept writing to Petra, talking about the Exams and Andy, who’d been more anxious than ever. He and Cissy were worried about her, after she’d had a mental breakdown in-between a study session and reading a letter from Aunt Druella. She had, of course, insisted that nothing was wrong, but he was convinced otherwise.

Then finally came the day of the trip to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. The public gave way to the Blacks, as usual, and Petra waved to Nova and Norma, who came to pick up their sister Ingrid, a girl on Reg’s year. Reg himself sported the typical emotionless pureblood look, that softened into quiet laughter as soon as Petra began to twist her face in weird ways to get a reaction out of him. Sirius was boisterously loud as usual, making a point on yelling goodbye to his halfblood friends, Lupin and Pettigrew, and Father discreetly smacked him on the head; Mother was as red as a beet. Andy and Cissy came soon after, the former receiving a kiss on the cheek from Dolohov. Petra came up to her, offering her hand, and could hear her grit her teeth.

* * *

“Reg…”

“Yes, Petra?”

“I want to use your wand.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, we already went through this.”

“And then Bella let me use hers!”

“If you want to use one again so badly, why don’t you ask her?”

Petra crossed her arms in frustration. It was true that Bellatrix had been staying at Grimmauld Place in anticipation of Andy’s wedding, but she had no plan of even being near the woman. She’d been hoping that Regulus would allow her just this time, but he’d been inflexible as always. If Petra Calliope didn’t love her brother so much, she’d be tempted to prank him.

She splayed herself on Reg’s bed. He’d decorated his room in Slytherin memorabilia in direct opposition to Sirius, who insisted on Gryffindor colors and themes. The eldest brother had been flabbergasted when he discovered the new state of his bedroom, courtesy of Petra and Kreacher, and his bad humor throughout the day warranted an unusual good disposition on Mother’s part.

Petra threw her shoes out of her feet and turned around to lie on her belly. She propped up her elbows and laid her face on her palms, kicking her feet back and forth. Reg took out a bunch of letters from his trunk and laid them on the bedside table, but then looked through the stash and took one out. He opened the envelope and unfolded the paper.

“Have you thought about Andy acting strange lately?” he asked.

Petra shrugged. “You know that she doesn’t exactly like Dolohov.”

“But arranged marriages aren’t unusual in those conditions, and Andy knows how to deal with him. No, what’s been happening to her isn’t about him.”

“What else could it be, then?”

Regulus looked lost. “I don’t know.”

* * *

Iola let Petra just slide down the wall to the floor and sit in silence. She stayed like that for some time.

“Were you forced to get married to someone?” she asked.

“I had a fiancé, like most other purebloods, but got married to Bob instead, you know that. Why?”

For some reason, Iola sounded a lot like Andy.

* * *

Petra couldn’t sit still. She was so tired of the restricting dress and shoes, and she’d already destroyed the ribbon and braid she’d been forced into. Mother seemingly quit trying to hold her down, and she quietly ran off from the bench and into the room where Andy was waiting with Cissy.

“Petra!” Cissy exclaimed. “Why are you here?”

“Was tired,” she answered. Petra Calliope walked over to Andy, making sure to wriggle out of her shoes first.

“Narcissa!” Aunt Druella opened the door just a crack. “Lucius Malfoy is here, go greet him.”

“Yes, Mother,” Cissy turned around to Andy quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

Andy nodded. Cissy opened the door and exited, before closing it carefully. Andy collapsed into a chair.

“Andy! What-” Petra couldn’t finish, as Andromeda motioned her to stop. The woman began to unlace her heavy wedding dress, hurrying the process with her wand, and stepped out of the fabric. She opened her purse and removed a Muggle shirt and skirt, along with some boots.

“Petra, can you please distract Mother and Cissy if they knock on the door?”

“What are you doing?”

“Something that will piss off the Family a lot.”

Petra grinned.

Andy finally finished dressing. They heard a knock on the window, and Petra’s cousin hurried in opening it. A young man wriggled inside of the room. He, like Andy, was dressed like a Muggle, and kissed her as soon as he regained his footing. She broke the kiss with a gasp, and turned to Petra.

“This is Ted,” she said. “I’m going to marry him.”

And then Andromeda left a letter on the chair along with her wedding dress and Disapparated with him.

* * *

The aftermath wasn’t pretty, with outraged Dolohovs, who lost a bride, and humiliated Blacks, who lost credibility. Bellatrix straight-up broke all of the china, Uncle Cygnus was occupied with a screaming match with Edna Dolohov, and the guests fled as soon as Mother began her rampage.

Nothing of Andromeda’s was spared: her photographs, her books, her clothes. Her portrait in the Tapestry was burnt. Her name was to no longer be spoken of. Her other portrait was torn to ribbons and thrown into Iola Hitchens’ room.

Narcissa and Aunt Druella sobbed. Sirius spoke up against the perceived injustice. Regulus took Petra to his bedroom.

And Petra? Petra grinned, loving the chaos that Andy had created, the chaos that tipped the balance of the Black Family. She was having a shit ton of fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	7. Just some days...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellatrix tries again, Petra talks with Arctus, and a cool gift from Alphard Black.

It was once again September 1st, the day before Petra’s second birthday and the day Reg would once again leave for Hogwarts. Petra Calliope had all but begged Mother to let her go, and then Father and even Uncle Alphard, only for them to most vehemently refuse (Mother because she didn’t want her daughter to follow Andromeda into rebellion, the men because they were scared of Walburga).

Alas, she was left with Bellatrix if all people, for the rest of the family was to see the children off and Alphard was dragged along by his sister. As with every outing, it meant that Mother had prettied Petra up, with those itchy, restraining dresses and annoying hairstyles, but the fact that Walburga had been rather frazzled ever since Andy meant that Petra ended up being able to rid herself of all of those ribbons before being shoved to the fireplace. Bella took her arm as soon as she arrived, covered in soot and all, and Mother left just as quickly.

Petra Calliope sneezed as she patted the ashes off her dress. Bella snorted and cast a quick charm that cleaned it.

“Thank you.”

“Aunt Walburga has been teaching you etiquette -” Bellatrix took a seat on one of the big armchairs in the drawing room and crossed her legs, “- but has she taught you about blood purity yet?”

Petra nodded. “Mother has been reading from the Pureblood Directory.”

“Nothing of the Dark Lord?”

“No.” Was Bella trying to indoctrinate Petra into joining the Death Eaters?

But the woman didn’t continue the conversation. Instead, she snapped her fingers and told the Elf that appeared to bring wine, which it did right away. Bella grabbed the tall, thin glass and took a sip from the liquid.

“Ah,” she said, “Elf wine. Rod always has the best varieties.”

Petra gulped nervously. “Bella?”

“Yes?”

“Haven’t you told me stories of the Dark Lord?”

Bellatrix tilted her head, searching through her memories. “Ah, yes. Although I haven’t really talked about what we really do. Narcissa and…” she hesitated, “Narcissa doesn’t approve of this, but what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

She uncrossed her legs and stared at Petra in fascination. “To think you are so young and yet you can already tame a wand as rebellious as mine… Not any adults could do it.”

Shit.

“I have some spells I’d like you to try, Petra dear.”

* * *

Getting away from Bellatrix before the woman could convince her to try some... less legal spells had been hard. Thankfully, Mother came to pick up Petra before something drastic happened. It had been one of the few times that she'd been glad to see Walburga Black.

Bella wasn't pleased at the interruption, but what could she do? She only scoffed a little before patting Petra's head and sending her off.

"We'll continue this later, little cousin."

Petra Calliope honestly wished they didn't.

* * *

Mother had apparently decided that two was an appropriate age to begin to learn how to read and write. Not that Petra Calliope minded, of course, for it meant she could begin to write back to Regulus… And, maybe, write some less appropriate words in those stupid propaganda-filled children’s book the Blacks had been feeding her. All in good fun.

It only occurred to Petra that Mother had began to flaunter her apparent ‘geniousness’ to the other pureblood wives when Madam Carrow quite publicly admonished Arctus, who was six, for not reading as well as Petra. The boy apologized profusely, eyes casted down, and escaped as soon as Madam Carrow’s attention was driven away from him.

Petra Calliope looked around at the other children in the tea-party, and nodded to Nova and Norma to cover her, before running off after Arctus.

“Hey!” she shouted. Arctus stopped when he saw Petra approach, breathing heavily. She really needed to work on endurance.

“Don’t, ah, don’t believe in that shit,” She said, hands on her knees.

Arctus furrowed his brows. “But it’s true?”

“Hardly anyone can, ah, read at two. You aren’t stupid.” Petra plopped down on the cold marble floor of the secluded corridor. “Sit down with me,” she patted the space next to her.

He joined her. “How do you deal with your mother? When she says things like that?”

“Hmm,” Petra tilted her head, “I just ignore what she says. The adults aren’t always right.”

“But they are adults!”

Petra Calliope laughed. “Has your mother ever been wrong about anything? Mine certainly has.”

Arctus stayed quiet.

“Well, I have somethings to do.” Petra propped up. “Madam Carrow will stand up from her chair eventually, and if Norma did her job properly, she should be tripping over her tied shoelaces soon.”

The older boy watched her leave. A distant thud and scream could be heard.

* * *

“Ah, Petra.”

Uncle Alphard entered the nursery, now turned into an actual bedroom for the youngest Black. Petra Calliope looked up from Regulus’ latest letter, _Ingrid Rowle has been annoying lately, just because her friend Merielle has a crush on me_ , and faced the man.

“I’ll be leaving soon,” he said. “I thought you’d like to have these, and I know Walburga wouldn’t approve, so…”

Alphard carried a small box into the bedroom and placed it on the bed. Petra jumped out of the chair and walked up to it.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Instant Darkness Powder, Peruvian, of course. I know you’ll find some use for it,” he winked at Petra.

“I’m hurt, Uncle. You don’t even help me with one last prank?”

He smiled widely. “I suppose I might. For old times’ sake. It’s been a while ever since I turned Walburga’s hair pink.”

* * *

Needless to say, Petra Calliope ended up grounded in her room, with only Reg’s letters keeping her sane and inspecting the small stash of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. It’d be useful later on.

Thank you, Uncle Alphard.

And so, Petra Calliope Black’s mad world continued to turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect to make such a long fic jeez. This is gonna take forever :)


	8. Interlude II: Petra's Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andromeda Tonks receives a letter from her two-year-old cousin.

Andromeda had received a few letters ever since she married Ted, from her mother, begging her to come back and forget everything, from her father, telling her that no matter what Druella said, she’d never be allowed back. There were a few envelopes from Bellatrix that she vehemently refused to open. They still came, every month. She had to admit Bella was nothing if not persistent.

Ted has asked her if they should go into hiding, or at the very least protect their house with more than just Muggle-repellent charms. Andromeda was seriously considering it at this point – the latest years had made it very clear that a war was brewing, even to someone who didn’t grow up hearing about a Dark Lord. She was worried too, about the baby mostly. (A halfblood born in the beginning of a blood-fuelled war to a disowned bloodtraitor from a prominent pureblood family? It was only asking for trouble.)

That being said, Andromeda kept receiving letters from her former family. When she was nearing eight months of pregnancy, a name already picked and everything, she received a wobblily written letter from the youngest Black, Petra. Who was two years old. If Andromeda wasn’t aware of the oddity her youngest cousin was, she’d be far more surprised. This was somewhat fitting, honestly.

The letter read like this:

> _Dearest Andy,_
> 
> _What the fuck. Don’t call the kid Nymphadora, she’s going to be bullied all her life. Heck, I thought that with a name like yours you’d save your kid from it. Call her something else, like Alexis or Theresa or something._
> 
> _(ink smudge)-other hand, Uncle Alphard wrote to me about some money he wants to send to you. You might not want to burn those letters – although I wouldn’t blame you for doing that, I’m pretty sure Bella isn’t above sending curses on hers._
> 
> _Well, hope things are going well. Might not want to respond to this letter, Mother wouldn’t be happy if she found me corresponding with you. I’d be perfectly content with annoying her any other day but she’s been cranky ever since you ran off to marry Ted. Don’t want to feed into that in particular._
> 
> _Petra Calliope_
> 
> _P.S: Should say that no, I’m not stalking you. Narcissa is. She told Reg who told me. You should probably invest in some Fidelius Charms._

Ted, the traitor, read it once and laughed out loud for a solid minute until he managed to croak out “She’s right, Dromeda, now someone other than me told you!”

Andromeda glared at him, her gaze sharp, but Ted continued wheezing. She chuckled, then smiled before breaking into laughter herself.

* * *

At night, after warding the house with a Fidelius charm, Andromeda sat down with Petra’s letter and the two letters that Alphard had sent her in the past, finding bank checks with a fair amount of money. Ted sat in the loveseat with one of those Muggle baby names’ books, flipping through the pages with interest.

“What about Janice?”

Andromeda pursed her lips in disapproval.

“Fine, then…” he skipped to the M’s, “Maia?”

“No stars, please.” Andromeda had left the Blacks for good, and she’d make sure to stay as far away from their traditions as possible.

“At this point, we might as well just call her Alexis like Petra suggested and be done with it.”

“Alexis?”

“Nah, you’re right, Dromeda. It’s dumb.”

Ted closed the book, but before he could get up, Andromeda sat him back down, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Actually,” she said, “I rather like it. Alexis. Alexis Nymphadora Tonks."

Ted snorted. "Really, Dromeda?"

"Yes, really."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I haven't posted for a while. Please do not expect regular updates. I suck at self-imposed deadlines.  
> 


	9. A Grand Declaration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't go right.

Christmas that year was tense. It’d been only Mother, Father, Reg, Cissy and Uncle Cygnus who attended, along with Petra. Aunt Druella had fallen ill shortly after Andy left, melancholic in disposition and her magic rarely flaring up. Bellatrix had mentioned a celebration at the Lestrange’s that she had to attend, but she’d surely meet at the ball (which Petra hadn’t been allowed to attend this year, nor had Reg; adults only).

Petra found herself in her Mother’s lap, her arm strongly gripped to ensure her good behaviour. Walburga had given up on trying to tame her daughter’s hair into a braid, so she just told Kreacher to throw it up into a simple ponytail tied with a bow, but Petra Calliope had gotten rid of it at the first opportunity, and now her hair laid unruly and free. Narcissa had sniffed a little when seeing her youngest cousin’s disorderly locks, and pulled her aside before dinner.

They entered one of the many bathrooms spread across Grimmauld Place. Cissy took a hairbrush and started combing through the knots in Petra’s hair. She was careful, quite unlike Walburga, not to pull her hair, and softened the thick curls into hair that could actually be styled.

“There,” Cissy took a look at her handiwork, her lips pulling up in a smile, her brown eyes softening. “Your hair is just like Bella’s. Mother never had much patience for it either, but you should learn how to deal with it without just thinking of chopping it all off.”

Petra gaped at her. She _had_ been thinking of cutting her hair into a more manageable length.

Her cousin snorted. “Bella cut it once when she was twelve – a horrible bob cut that Mother refused to level because Bella did it to annoy her. And it sounds like something you’d do.”

“I wouldn’t end up with such a bad haircut, you know! I’m not that bad with scissors.”

Narcissa shrugged. She picked up a stray piece of ribbon and fashioned it into a bow with her wand, before attaching it into the side of Petra’s hair. Petra Calliope instinctively tried to pull it off, but found that whatever spell Cissy used, it made it so that she couldn’t take it off.

“It’ll stay until the end of the party,” Cissy patted Petra’s shoulder, “so your hair won’t be so unruly.”

“I don’t like it.” Petra allowed herself a bit of whining. After all, Christmas didn’t happen every day.

Cissy messed with the tips of Petra’s hair, pulling a small lock carefully and watching it spring back up. She stayed silent when she helped Petra Calliope out of the chair and decided to forfeit her dignity for a while and picked her up. They walked down the hallway to the drawing room, where the Family was supposed to meet in half an hour. The portraits sneered as they passed, commenting on their postures and poise. Petra threw her arms around Cissy neck and gave the rude ancestors the middle finger on her cousin’s back. They sputtered indignantly and Petra chuckled in return.

“Don’t antagonize them,” Cissy murmured next to Petra’s ear. “I know they’re annoying, but you need to learn to control yourself. Otherwise, someday you’ll slip up in front of someone else.”

Petra Calliope rolled her eyes. She was very much in control of herself, and she knew better than to do something like slipping up.

* * *

Nova and Norma, now around three, had enough dexterity to begin sending Petra letters. Not enough to write anything other than their names, but the drawings they sent weren’t half bad for someone with hands as pudgy as theirs (Petra would know – her handwriting was _atrocious_ ). Petra sent back simple letters that could be proofread by their parents first, and then taught the twins the good old method of invisible lemon ink, telling them to not let it catch on fire when they held it over the fireplace. Kreacher was more than happy to deliver lemons to Petra’s room, and Nova and Norma were more than happy to help out with the latest prank idea.

Sometime in early February, the twins came to Grimmauld Place to spend the week with Petra. Their lessons cancelled for the time being, the three of them plotted in Petra’s bedroom, and Kreacher came with tea and biscuits frequently.

Nova showed off the small amount of magic she’d been able to control with help of her brother, levitating one of the Slytherin scarfs that Reg had sent, and Norma seemed more content in picking the crumbs off of the bedsheets than to pay attention. Petra and Nova looked at each other with a glint in their eyes, and the scarf inched closer and closer to the other Rowle girl. Norma looked up, confused, and Petra threw herself at the other girl, growling and laughing. Norma responded by picking up a pillow and throwing it at Petra’s head.

Nova responded with another pillow at her twin’s torso, and Petra joined her in revenge. The pillows burst and the room was soon filled with feathers.

* * *

Sirius wrote in April. It was short and to the point, and Petra burned the letter just after reading it. She kept the picture, though, disguised behind another framed picture of her and Reg, smiling a contained smile for one of those official portraits they had to do every year. Petra had still managed to sneak in an extra small eyeroll, though.

She didn’t send a reply. The two of them could reach an understanding between getting information on Andy and Alexis, but they would never get along. Petra would never allow someone who betrayed Reg into her life like that.

At night, when she was sure that no one would enter her room, Petra took out the picture and watched it for a few minutes. Alexis’ hair changed from brown to green and Andy laughed up at the camera.

* * *

Bellatrix appeared at the Black House only a few times the year before, always very official, her husband on her arm like a decoration. This time, she came alone, her hair in a disarray and covered in sweat, and left with a pouch filled with gold. She winked at Petra, mouthed ‘later’, and Disapparated once in the Muggle street. Mother placed her hand on Petra Calliope’s shoulder and brought her in to her etiquette lesson.

Later that day, Father, Orion, took Petra to his office and made her sit on the chair in front of his secretary. Petra bit her tongue. Had he found out about the booby-trapped inkwell? Or perhaps this was about some other prank? She’d never been taken to his office like this, and the uncertainty filled her with excitement.

Father circled her chair, his mouth tense. His lips were chapped, and Petra vaguely wondered if he too bit his lips. Finally, he settled on his own chair, and folded his hands over his crossed legs. “Child,” he said, tone grave. Petra straightened up in reflex. “It has been brought to my attention that your magic lessons should begin.”

Petra felt elation at his words. Fucking finally! She was finally going to learn magic!

“Really, Father?”

He chuckled. “Yes. Your lessons will start next week.”

“Yeah!”

Orion raised his eyebrows at her reaction, and Petra mentally groaned at having to correct herself. “I mean, thank you, Father.”

Fucking etiquette.

He gave her a small piece of paper. “Your tutors,” was all he said about it.

Petra read it.

_Transfiguration – Jusperius Fawley_

_Charms – Anne Rowle_

_Herbology, Potions – Sophia Bobbin_

_History of Magic – Gracinda Macnair_

_Dueling – Bellatrix Lestrange_

She gulped. “Bella?”

“Ah, she offered herself to be your tutor.” Orion took his quill and started writing in some documents. His glasses reflected the light from the fireplace, and, in the effect, Petra could not see her Father’s grey eyes. “She argued that it would not take time from her… other duties, so we agreed.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

* * *

Iola clapped her hands when she found out.

“Congratulations, dear! To begin tutoring at such a young age, you must be really talented.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Petra mumbled. “It’d be great if Bella wasn’t one of them.”

Iola paled. “Bellatrix? The one you said…”

Petra sighed and ran her hand through her dusty hair. The torn-up portraits hadn’t been cleaned in ages, and neither had the rest of the room. As her fingers found knots, small clouds of dust rose up.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be a Death Eater, if she isn’t one already.”

The portrait’s eyes darted to the side, to the name plaque that said Andromeda. They remained there. “Be careful, child. Merlin help you, may you be luckier than I was.”

* * *

_Dear Petra,_

_Congratulations! Bella is remarkably difficult to impress. But to impress her to the point that she wants you to be her student?_

The rest of Reg’s letter went very much like that, praising Petra for obtaining Bellatrix’s attention. She would have revelled in it had her objective not been, you know, the entire opposite. At this point, the letter only rubbed salt into the injury.

Petra’s objective had always been to be a Gryffindor, fuck shit up, and join the Order of the Phoenix. She hadn’t forgotten. But it seemed that everyone around her wanted to pull her into the opposite direction. Had she ever even had a chance? What was it that Bella had said that one time?

_Didn’t she manifest when she was, what, two days old?_

Had Bella always had an eye on her? Had Petra never really had a chance at not catching her attention?

Shit, she thought. She rolled over, laying down on her belly. The bed croaked a bit at the movement. Petra skimmed the rest of the page, deeming it unessential in content, and turned to the other side.

Reg was just finishing up his second year at Hogwarts. At this point in time, he was preparing for his exams. Petra had written him that he didn’t need to send any letters, that the most important thing for him right now was to focus, but he still decided to send her a letter of congratulations.

The kid was corny, but he had his heart in the right place. Petra had more stress than happiness from the letter, but the intention was good. She finished up with the letter and folded it into four, making sure to keep it as flat as possible. After flattening a corner or two, she placed it neatly inside the box next to her and closed it.

She sighed and laid down again, her body in a starfish-like position and her head buried into her pillow. Petra laid there for a good while before getting up, putting away the box on her desk and patting down her dress.

She was Petra Calliope Black, and she was _not_ going to let this get to her!


End file.
